A Boyfriend for Christmas
by DharmaMotorPool
Summary: Secret Santa for SassyCop. Gillian's not planning to go home for Christmas, but when Cal intervenes, it'll be a holiday to remember.


**A/N: So, first off, I must apologize for my tardiness. I worked a lot of days that I was not expecting to work, and became busier and more tired than I originally intended, but anyway, here it is! This is a little something, set post-finale. I titled it based on that adorable movie Kelli's in (well, Kelli's adorable **_**in**_** it, anyway). I wanted it to be longer, but I also wanted to finish **_**before**_** the new year arrived. I hope this was worth the wait! Dedicated to SassyCop for the awesome idea, and LornaCat, who pep-talked me through it. Happy holidays, Lie-hards!**_**  
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_**December the Twentieth**_

"Oi! Gill!" Cal called to her from the door of her office. Gillian sat behind her desk, typing speedily away.

"Can I help you?" she asked, not moving her eyes from the screen, or her fingers from the keyboard.

Cal leaned against the doorframe. "What are you plannin' on for Christmas? Need a little vacation time? I think you're due for one, love."

Gillian finally turned to meet his gaze, her head tilting slightly to the right, eyes narrowed in attempt to analyze the reasoning behind his question. "You're one to talk," she accused, "You haven't had a proper vacation since I met you."

"That's completely untrue," he insisted, "And besides, you've got a nice, big family living close by. I haven't."

Gillian sat back in her chair and crossed her arms, "Out with it, Cal. I know you're up to something, so just cut to the chase. I have work to do."

"Someone's touchy! Alright, then. I've had a chat with your mum, and we're headin' to your parents' house for Christmas. Cheerio!" He attempted to flee the scene before she absorbed what he'd just said, but no such luck. Gillian was off her chair in a flash, and she caught up to him in just a few quick strides.

"You did _what?"_ she demanded, standing in front of him, hands on her hips. "Caldonius Barnaby Lightman, you had better _pray_—"

"Oi! What'd I tell you about callin' me that?" he broke in.

"Oh, I'll post your birth certificate all over this office if I have to. You had _better_ not be serious."

"Serious about what, love?" he asked, playing innocent.

"You know very well _about_ _what_. I am not going there, Cal, and even if I did, I most definitely would not be bringing you."

"Darling, I know family's a touchy subject, but it's Christmas, and you haven't been home in years. Your mum misses you. Besides, it would be a bit odd if you didn't show up to introduce your family to your boyfriend," he said nonchalantly.

Her brow furrowed in confusion. "I haven't got a—" Then it dawned on her. "Cal," she said, in a warning tone. "I really am going to kill you."

"Somehow, I'm not worried about that threat."

"Why would you _tell_ them that?"

"Well, your mum was goin' on about your divorce, and, you know, she was concerned, as mothers are—so I reassured her."

"With a _lie_," she corrected him.

"She doesn't have to know that. We've played the part before," he reminded her, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

Gillian rolled hers. "You're impossible," she said, shaking her head, "We're not doing this."

"I think it's a bit late for that, love. Plans have already been made."

Gillian stood there for a few moments, debating which would be more humiliating; showing up and pretending to be Cal's girlfriend, or having to call her mother and come up with some kind of excuse—or worse, tell the truth. She took a deep breath in and exhaled slowly. "You'd better not screw this up."

Cal's grin spread from ear to ear. "Don't worry, I've got it sorted."

"That's what I'm worried about," she quipped.

x x x

_**December the Twenty-fourth**_

"Alright, so, we started dating three months ago, and just remember, none of your usual…" Gillian paused, gesturing to him, "You know."

"My usual '_you_ _know'?_ What's 'you know'? My habits? My manner of speakin'? My charming personality?"

"Yes."

"Yes what?"

"Just…yes."

Cal kept one hand on the steering wheel, the other clutching his chest, "Ouch! That one hurt, love." The grin he was wearing seemed to suggest otherwise.

"We're almost there. God, why did I agree to this? It's beyond mental."

"Well, it'll get your mum off your back about your love life, for one thing. And another—I finally get to see where you came from."

"Just don't go running off once you do," she grumbled.

"Never," he vowed.

"Seriously, Cal, my family can be—"

"I know how families can be, love. It's not going to change how I feel about you."

Gillian paused just then, hearing something in his voice that she wasn't quite sure how to interpret. "Anyway, let's just go over this one more time. There are my parents, obviously, Ken and Sarah. Then my aunt Caroline and her husband, Dale, and my cousins, Sam, Eli, and Gabriel. Their wives are Amanda and Alyssa, and Michelle is Gabe's fiancée. Christopher and Rose are 3 and 6, and they belong to Sam and Amanda. The baby, Grace, is Eli and Alyssa's. Michelle is pregnant, but our parents aren't supposed to know until after the wedding next month, so make sure not to mention it. My cousins are staying at a hotel, but Caroline, Dale, and you and I are staying at the house." Gillian exhaled, trying to figure if she'd remembered everything.

"Shotgun wedding, eh?" Cal asked with a chuckle.

"They were already engaged, they just set the date when they found out," she explained.

"Right," Cal replied. "And what did we bring? Gifts and all that."

"I bought some wine for mom. Sam told me the adults traded names already, so he just asked if I could bring a few things for the kids." Gillian sighed, "We're here."

"You don't seem too happy about that, love," he observed, parking the car in the driveway next to a blue minivan that must have belonged to Sam and Amanda.

"Oh, I'm just full of holiday cheer! Can't you tell?" she asked, smiling, though her tone was sarcastic. She climbed out of the car and walked back to the trunk, retrieving her suitcase. Cal helped her carry the gifts, and they made their way to the front door. Gillian took a deep breath before ringing the bell.

A small commotion was heard; the kids were running to the door, accompanied by a small, yapping shih-tzu. "Aunt Gilly!" 6-year-old Rose called out once she managed to unlock the door. She flung her arms around Gillian's leg, prompting a warm laugh from "Aunt Gilly".

"Well hello there!" Gillian said, stepping inside, followed by Cal. "I don't think I know you. Is Rose here?"

"_I'm_ Rose!" the little one insisted.

"Are you sure? No, no, Rose is just a little girl, and you're so grown up."

"Aunt Gilly, it's _me!"_ Rose told her again, laughing in delight.

"_Ohh!"_ Gillian replied, as if she'd just discovered electricity, "I see now. My goodness, I didn't even recognize you! How old are you now, 25?"

"No, I'm 6!" Rose corrected her, still giggling. She held up three fingers on each hand, "Only _this_ many!"

"Are _you_ 25?" 3-year-old Christopher broke in.

Gillian laughed, "Sweetheart, I haven't been 25 in a long time," she told him. Bending down, Gillian kissed each of their cheeks. "Have you been good this year?"

Both children nodded excitedly. "Santa's coming tomorrow! And I won't get any coal in my stocking, 'cause I did super good in school!" Rose told her.

"I bet you're the smartest first-grader in the whole school, huh?" Gillian asked, "You'll have to teach me everything you learned so far."

"I know lots. I can count all the way to a _billion_!"

Gillian beamed, "That's a long way to count!"

Cal watched their entire exchange, marveling at how good Gillian was with the kids. He'd always known she'd make a fantastic mother, but seeing it up close was something else. By that time, the adults had come to greet them. Gillian hugged her parents first (though she was far more tentative about hugging her father, Cal noticed), and then her cousins in turn, introducing them each to Cal.

"Thank you for getting our daughter out here, Cal. It's good to finally put a face to your voice," Gillian's mother said, giving Cal a light hug.

"Well, I couldn't very well have her ditching her family on Christmas, could I? It's my fault she's not been out here more, really. Tough job and all that."

"Oh right, the two of you work together," Gillian's uncle Dale recalled, "How's that going? Does mixing business with pleasure really work?"

"Like a charm," Cal replied, putting an arm around Gillian's waist.

"It has its challenges," Gillian corrected him with a slight grin.

"You're not lyin' about that, love. I confess, I'm not the easiest man to work with, but your Gillian, she does a bang-up job. Don't know what I'd do without her. She's saved my arse so many times, I've lost count." There was nothing but truth in his statements; Gillian heard it in his voice, saw it in his eyes, and felt it in the slight squeeze he gave her. It threw her off a bit, even if he'd already let her know in other ways.

"Well, we're glad you made it," her father said, though Cal caught the lie. Ken didn't seem too keen on Cal's being there, and he was very uncertain about Gillian.

_This is going to be an interesting night,_ Cal couldn't help thinking.

_x x x_

"I hate to give you an inch, because you'll take a mile, but you really impressed me tonight, Cal," Gillian complimented him later that night. They had changed into their pajamas and were in Gillian's old room, getting ready for bed.

"Well, darling, did you expect anything less?" he asked with a proud grin.

"Actually, I expected you to be kicked out, in jail, or killed by now. You've grown up," she joked.

"I know how to behave, love. When it counts." There it was again. That look; the same one he'd given her earlier that day.

She stared at him, momentarily losing her train of thought. "You can be so—"

"Charming?"

"I was going to say 'annoying', but charming works. Tonight, anyway. You certainly charmed my mother."

Cal chuckled, "She's a good one, your mum," he agreed.

They climbed into bed, each from opposite sides. Gillian flicked the lamp into the 'off' position, though there was still a glow from outside; the light from the moon glinted off the snow and shone through the blinds.

"Can I ask you something, love?"

"Depends," Gillian answered, turning her gaze toward him, a sly smile crossing her features.

"What was all that business between you and your dad, eh?" he asked gingerly, scooting a bit closer to her.

"Cal," she said warningly, emitting a soft sigh. "That's just—it's nothing, really. Just a lot of things we've had a hard time forgiving each other for."

"Like what, darling?" His questions were soft and careful; he didn't want to scare her into an emotional shut-down.

Gillian paused, contemplating the most efficient way to explain her father-daughter relationship. She settled for a less direct approach. "He's been sober 15 years, you know."

"That's a long time," Cal noted, moving a bit closer. "What happened when he drank, love?" His hand rested on hers.

"Hey," she changed the subject, "Stay on your own side!"

"Oh, are we still playing 'don't cross the line', then? I wasn't aware," he said, his tone thick with meaning. They'd been skirting that line for years; as far as Cal was concerned, it was high time they erased the bloody thing from existence.

"I mean it, Cal, get over there. We're not a couple right now." Gillian pushed him lightly, urging him back over to his half of the bed.

"Oh fine, use me for my charm and good looks and cast me aside when it's inconvenient," he said, feigning hurt.

"That's right," she retorted. "Besides, it's your own bloody fault we're here."

"Did you just say—"

"I've been hanging around you too much, obviously," Gillian interrupted.

Cal's grin grew broader, full of amusement that his manner of speaking had rubbed off on her. "Not enough, really," he insisted.

"Shut up and go to sleep." Gillian rolled over so that her back was to Cal.

"Stop tryin' to seduce me, it's not going to work!" he joked, smiling as he watched her. He knew her eyes were open. He knew she was wrestling with herself, trying to decide whether to turn back around. In less than a minute's time, she did just that.

"_I'm_ trying to seduce _you_? You're the one who dragged me here to convince my family that we're a couple."

"You're the one who's lettin' me sleep in her bed," he challenged.

"We're _pretending_," she insisted, not realizing that they were moving closer to each other with each word.

"_Pretending_ hasn't been so bad, has it, love? You can't deny how natural it felt tonight. Your family already loves me," he told her with a grin, "Come on, darling. How much longer are we going to go on pretending?"

"You did all this on purpose," she accused.

Cal closed the rest of the distance between them, claiming her lips with his own. The kiss was sweet; brief, but not dispassionate. Cal pulled back, smiling.

"You crossed the line," Gillian told him softly.

"And about bloody time," he replied, resuming the kiss, more passionately than before. Gillian's arms wrapped around his neck, and he rolled on top of her. The kiss lasted several intense minutes as they explored with their tongues. Just as Cal's hands began roaming her curves, they were interrupted by a surprised gasp, followed by a chuckle.

"Sorry, lovebirds," Gillian's mother said. "I knocked, but—"

"Everything alright, mom?" Gillian sat up, awkwardly trying to skirt the subject.

"Oh, everything's fine, sweetheart, just making sure you're all set for the night. Evidently, you've got everything you need."

"Evidently," Cal affirmed with a happy grin, "Thank you, Sarah."

"Sweet dreams."

"Goodnight, mom." Gillian's cheeks were flushed with embarrassment, and Cal kissed each of them before moving down to her neck. "Mmm…Cal?"

"Yes, love?" he murmured against her skin.

"I suppose there'll be no pretending now," she said, her arms snaking back around his neck.

He lifted his head, "Darling, I haven't been pretending for a long time," he told her. "I love you, Gill."

A radiant smile spread across her face. "You know, I've been wondering when you'd finally cave," she teased, chuckling as their lips collided again. "I love you, too," she returned softly. "Maybe I'll tell you what happened with my father. Later. Right now, can we just—keep not pretending?"

"Oh, I intend to _not_ pretend as much as possible," he affirmed before laying her down again. They spent the next two hours very deliberately _not_ pretending to translate their love for one another into actions.


End file.
